


we are not shining stars

by lyricalecho



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:11:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2593019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricalecho/pseuds/lyricalecho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They weren't quite friends, not the way Remus's friends were, but that doesn't mean Kingsley doesn't know what's right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are not shining stars

**Author's Note:**

> This is another old fic, posted as a Facebook note in December of 2012, that I was suddenly reminded of when I saw a gifset of Kingsley on my dash today, and I realized I was still pretty fond of it so I thought I would post it here. I know it's short enough to be nearly invisible to the naked eye, I PROMISE I can and will post Real Actual Fanfiction, but in the meantime... here's this?

People ask him  _why_ , ask him  _what does it matter_ , ask him  _why do you care_ , and Kingsley doesn't tell them everything because Kingsley never tells everything. He doesn't tell them about the years he spent hearing four of his classmates sneak out of the Gryffindor dorms once a month, doesn't explain walking past the infirmary and seeing Remus Lupin battered and bandaged and unconscious in one of the beds, doesn't describe the way Sirius and James in particular would sling their arms over his shoulders, lean in close, draw in around him like they were making a shield. 

He doesn't say anything, just like he rarely said anything to the four of them; as far as he's aware, they assumed he didn't know.

And when people ask he doesn't tell them about the first war, about spending every day knowing he could lose any of the people he'd known for his whole life, because they know that. They know about the deaths of James and Lily Potter. They don't need to know that, in the outbreak of stunned celebration over The Boy Who Lived, Remus Lupin looked more lost and broken and unshielded than he had in any hopsital bed, smiling the same sad smile that Kingsley had seen him use for years.

There are some moments that aren't his to share, even if he wanted to.

He doesn't tell them about the years after, because Kingsley's never been one to dwell but whenever he found his thoughts wandering to those they had lost he always wound up thinking about Remus, glancing to the full moon and wondering if he was safe, if he was alone.

He doesn't tell them about Remus's face the next time they saw each other, far too old and just barely hopeful, doesn't tell them about Remus's face when Sirius Black tumbles through the veil, Remus's face when Tonks looks at him, Remus's face when he comes back from missions silent and shaking, Remus's face when Dumbledore tells the two of them, together, that Harry James Potter is the best hope they have. 

He never tells anyone about Remus's face just before the end, resigned, unflinching, because Kingsley knows a hero when he sees one and it's not something you can describe in words.

The few people to whom he's told anything at all-- the few to which he's explained that he was in the same House as James Potter, and James Potter's group of friends-- are taken aback, at first. Kingsley's particular brand of terse stoicism isn't something usually associated with the red and the gold, and he knows this. But Kingsley is a Gryffindor, and as a Gryffindor the injustices that Remus Lupin had to face boil under Kingsley's skin like a cauldron left on the fire; as a Gryffindor he feels that sacrificing yourself for a world that feared you demands recompense, demands  _recognition_ ; as a Gryffindor he understands that this is not only about Remus but about everyone Remus cared about, and everyone who cared about him.

So when Kingsley is elected Minister of Magic, and his first official motion is to remove every single piece of anti-werewolf legislation ever put into place by Dolores Umbridge or anyone else, he realizes that some people don't understand.

And he does not tell them everything because they don't need everything; he just looks at them, unflinching, and says, "I knew a werewolf once," and then adds, "He deserved better."

(As he walks away, he doesn't tell them that "better," here, is still never enough; he hopes they can come to realize that on their own, in time.)


End file.
